


Try, Try Again

by SoundandColor



Series: We Are Not Ourselves [2]
Category: Ninja Assassin (2009)
Genre: Asian Character, Black Character, Character of Color, F/M, Female Character of Color, Interracial Relationship, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/pseuds/SoundandColor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly while expecting different results. It's funny, Mika would call that being tenacious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try, Try Again

Mika's been called many things: relentless, single-minded, obsessive…In her line of work, these are all compliments.

-

She'll never forget the look on Ryan's face as she tells him she's bringing Raizo home with her. He tries to talk her out of it and, when that doesn't work, he tries to reason with her. He says things like _he's a wild animal_ and you'll never be able to trust him and _he'll never be normal, not really_.

Mika turns to stare out the window at that—arms crossed—and pretends not to hear.

-

They like to play a game.

Whenever they go to a grocery store or to a department store or whenever she can drag Raizo to the mall, Mika will slip away. Disappear back into the teen department or the dressing rooms or the appliance section and time how long it takes him to find her. Not very is usually the answer. She rarely makes it two feet before his eyes are on her but, sometimes, she can vanish almost as well as he can.

Those are the days she likes best.

-

Eight months and some weeks after he moves in, Mika corners him in their hallway, stands on tiptoe and angles her mouth over his. The kiss is short and she doesn't give him time to react to it because she's afraid he won't.

Raizo doesn't disappoint.

Afterward his face is stony and, if it wasn't for the slight tint of red gloss at his lips, she could almost believe she'd never kissed him at all.

For a little while after that, she sort of hates him.

-

Mika has never thought of herself as a glutton for punishment but when she blurts out "I want you to come to Paris with me" one afternoon four months later, she begins to rethink that position.

He's in the middle of working out when he stops and stares at her face before he says something surprising.

"All right."

Mika smiles and lets out a sigh. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath.

She hadn't planned on asking him today and it shows. They only realize they'll be visiting on Bastille Day after they've already called off work and every hotel has been booked months in advance.

She buckles down then and an hour later hits pay dirt, reserves a room in a small bed and breakfast-type place with only one picture on its website and she gets two overnight train passes. It'll be uncomfortable sitting straight up in an itchy chair for twelve hours straight, but she's happy as she calls a taxi.

They pack and leave for Paris the very next day.

-

At first she thinks they're at the wrong building and asks Raizo to question their driver. She could've asked herself; Mika can speak passable French, but—as she'd been surprised to find out when they caught a cab into the city— he's fluent.

She doesn't turn to watch him walk away, but looks over the hotel instead. The window planters filled with blooming begonias in the photo are half overgrown and half dead when she sees them in person and the charmingly aging building looks more dilapidated than anything else.

She hears the car drive away and when she turns, Raizo is directly behind her. Her heart jumps in her chest; she hadn't heard him move and she thinks maybe he did that on purpose.

"This is it," he states flatly, and grabs her bag before they walk in.

The place looks like an upgraded hostel, with private sleeping quarters and a floor bathroom. Their room is…nice. Two small twin beds that she has her doubts Raizo will be comfortable enough to sleep in take up the center of the room. There's one window on the far wall with a dresser beneath and no TV, but at least it's clean.

She grabs her suitcase and barely sits it down before he picks it up and moves it to the bed furthest from the door. She guesses he thinks it's safer that way but it needles her for some reason. Most of his clan is dead and those that aren't are in the wind. She doesn't think they'd risk their freedom to come after her.

She doesn't need him to protect her.

Mika's started to smoke every now and then since that first cigarette when they met and now her fingers twitch with the desire for one. She notices him watching her intently and she makes herself stop moving. He'd probably already known- had most likely smelled it on her and gone down to the corner store to delicately question the cashier on what she was there picking up- but the fact that she can't have a secret when he refuses to share that he can speak French until they're already in France agitates her even more.

She crosses her arms over chest and stares at the wall before turning to him quickly; he's already standing when their eyes meet.

"How about we go for a walk?"

-

As soon as they're out the door she feels better and when they come across a small patisserie on the same block as their hotel she starts to remember why she wanted to come here in the first place.

Mika stares at the display case, finally settles on something thick and chocolatey, and—after trying it—offers him a taste as a peace offering.

He wants to beg off, she can tell by the minute changes in his demeanor, and it strikes her that, not so long ago, she would've missed them.

"Come on," she goads, and coyly looks up at him from under her lashes. "We're strangers in a strange land."

He stares down at her and something about where they are or the look on his face or a mixture of both makes her want to pull him close and whisper _we don't ever have to go back, you know_ into his ear.

She wants to say…she wants to say so many things, but she doesn't.

Then he leans forward and takes the bite, licks the spoon clean, and she wishes she did say it but she doesn't care either way anymore.

-

On their last day, Mika and Raizo go to the Eiffel Tower and lay out a blanket to celebrate Bastille Day. An older lady next to them shares her food and Mika watches screaming children dart between the blankets with ice cream covered faces. She drinks too much champagne and ends up falling asleep.

She misses the fireworks.

Later she jerks awake and the park is dark and deserted. She rubs her eyes and looks at Raizo's profile—he's leaning back on his elbows with his feet crossed at the ankles and there's just enough moonlight for her to make out that smirk he gets when he wants to laugh at her but won't—as he gazes up at the sky.

"You're ready?" he asks without looking in her direction and she moves to sit up. She wonders how long he sat there, waiting for her, as she straightens out her dress and nods yes, she's ready.

She stands and he folds their blanket before handing it to her. He puts his hands in his pockets as they slowly walk home, barely grazing sides.

-

He wakes up as soon as her foot hits the floor.

She hadn't made any noise and neither had he but they're both aware of the other now. They're both waiting to see who moves first and it's her, it's always her. She shuffles across the small space between their beds and sits on the edge of his. Her hand hovers over his naked back and she can feel the heat rising from his skin. Their hotel, like many places, doesn't have AC and she hesitates before she lets it land, tries to avoid the scars they never talk about.

"You were making noise in your sleep."

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he mutters, and she shakes her head before she realizes he can't see her and speaks.

"No, it's fine. Do you want a glass of water or…"

She lets the question trail off as he tenses under her touch.

"That's fine. I don't need anything."

She stares at the back of his head and licks her lips without responding, rubs her damp forehead before walking to the window and pulling it open. Their view of the alley below blesses them with a strong breeze that smells faintly of garbage but it's cool and they'll take what they can get.

When she turns back toward him he's staring down at his hands but he wasn't always. There's no way she should know this but Mika would bet her life he'd just been looking at her. She nervously runs her thumbs along the elastic waistband of her sleep shorts as she walks to him and sits back on the edge of his bed.

She doesn't know what she's doing ( _he'll never be normal, not really_ ) and something tells Mika that this is probably a very bad idea but she puts her hand on his forearm and slides it up so she can cradle the side of his neck.

He doesn't move, doesn't lean in or out of her touch, just watches impassively as she climbs to her knees on the mattress. She brings his hand up and runs her lips against the tender skin of his wrist, feels his pulse flutter erratically before she drops it. He can pretend to be unmoved but his body is betraying him.

She can hear him breathing as she reaches a leg over him to straddle his thighs and slowly lowers herself against him. Mika glides closer and notches her hips against his own. He can't stop it then; Raizo shivers and she likes it. She likes the red flags of color painted high on each of his cheeks, she likes that she can pull emotions from him that he'd rather keep under wraps and that she's got a man who could kill everyone in the building without anyone noticing trembling between her thighs.

After that, he's stoic once again and Mika can't read him. He doesn't raise his arms to touch her back or even act like there's a woman straddling him. She wonders, not for the first time, about his life before. She's pretty sure he's got ninety percent of the world beat when it comes to messed up childhoods—daddy never hugging you doesn't quite measure up against being a genuine child soldier—but she doesn't want to assume anything.

She knows that he can't be a virgin, it's impossible, but he's never been with anyone in the year she's known him, at least she doesn't think so, and the idea that maybe he has—that he's kept it from her—makes her grip his shoulder a little harder than necessary.

She's angry, suddenly. Angry with him for making her do all the work, for making her like him, for being so fucked up, and she decides then that she's going to break him. That she's going to make him react.

She rocks her hips forward gently, his jaw clenches and that one reaction is equal to moan when it comes to him. She does it again, harder, and this time his hands contract like a reflex. His eyes are hazy by the third time and by the fourth he's dragged his palms up to her waist. He looks frustrated—whether it's by her movements or his inability to ignore them altogether is up for discussion—and it makes her smile.

Let him try to stay quiet. She'll bet anything that he won't be able to.

She crosses her wrists behind his neck and leans in close, mouth hovering over his as she moves to tilt her hips for a better angle. His pajama pants aren't much of a barrier and she can feel him hard beneath her. Mika twists her hips a little to the left and— _oh yes_ —that's it.

The motion seems to work for him as well; he gasps quietly, pulls her closer and she smirks into his neck, they're getting somewhere. His hands slide from her waist slowly and become bold. He skims one over her ribcage, barely hesitates before covering her breast. He circles her areola with a thumb, goes further and gently tugs a taut nipple. She doesn't wear a bra to bed and his touch through her thin tank is almost as good as being to skin to skin—almost—but not really.

She pushes into him, finally lets their lips touch sweetly for only the second time and he slumps forward on a groan. He's no longer trying to hold anything back to save her from himself or whatever he thought he was doing for her benefit and she decides to stop punishing him for it.

She reaches between them and rubs the length of him expertly, kisses him until she's lightheaded and he comes against her with a low, whining sound she'd never imagined he could make.

Now Mika knows a secret about him too.

She pulls back a little and lets him rest for a moment. The room is uncomfortably warm, her hair is sticking to her neck and her shirt is plastered to her back but she has more important things to think about. They can go rinse off later.

He looks up after he catches his breath and this time he kisses her. It's softer than what she'd like but she doesn't try to deepen it. He slips a hand behind her neck, licks her bottom lip and she lets his tongue slip against hers, starts to rock against him again. He moves his other hand from her waist, runs a finger along the elastic edge of her shorts.

She wants to let him go at his own pace but she ends up pushing his hand between her legs because she can't wait anymore. She guides him in what she likes before letting him take the lead. He strokes her tentatively through two layers of damp clothing and she wants to pull him free. Wants to slide against him skin to skin but she'd gone off birth control after a year of celibacy and they had no protection.

They have to make this work and it shouldn't be enough but it is.

She folds herself into him, pulls away from his mouth and presses her face into the hollow where his shoulders curve into his neck. Begins to grind against his palm with no finesse. He catches on quickly to which motions she likes best and starts to experiment with new ones. Presses into her harder and Mika grabs the headboard behind his head, stills, and comes on a strained exhale.

She stares at the wall behind them—feeling languorous—as she tries to catch her breath. She wants to lie down but her mind won't be calm. She needs to think, needs to come up with the right thing to say at a moment like this when he starts to laugh.

He doesn't do that much but, when he does, it's usually cautious, like he's testing the way the sound tastes in his mouth, or better, like he's trying something he shouldn't but this sound bubbles up from somewhere deep in his belly and comes out full-throated, on the edge of hysterical. She stares at him, hidden in darkness, half-afraid and half-mesmerized with a smile.

He looks more human at this moment than she's ever believed he could be.

He quiets, finally, and stares back before pulling her into a hug and holding her so tight she can barely breathe.

-

They're almost late for their train home but he grabs her hand as they run across the platform, propels her forward and they make it just in time.

He stows their luggage while she squeezes into the tiny restroom at the far end of the car. and when she comes back he's staring out the window. She glances at the side of his face before sitting down. They haven't talked about what happened at the hotel and she wonders if she should speak up, if she should make the first move. But this time, she decides to just let it be.

-

They don't speak for the entire journey and when they get home—after Raizo checks the house for someone waiting in the wings and finds nothing—he disappears into his room without a word. She stares at his door for a moment and thinks, _the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly while expecting different results_ before going over and knocking.

It's funny, Mika would call that being tenacious.


End file.
